


Pushing Daisies

by Miikado



Category: How to Train Your Dragon (Movies), Rise of the Guardians (2012)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Fluff, Hijack Pushing Daisies AU, M/M, Minor Character Death, Pushing Daisies AU, Romance, dog!toothless
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-05
Updated: 2015-04-05
Packaged: 2018-03-21 09:53:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,754
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3687780
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Miikado/pseuds/Miikado
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>(Pushing Daisies AU as developed with the amazing Derpfire on tumblr.)</p>
<p>Hiccup is a Pie-Maker with an unusual gift: He can touch dead things and bring them back to life. To help Aster Bunnymund, a bitter private investigator, Hiccup uses his incredible talent to wake murder victims and ask who killed them. </p>
<p>Unfortunately, the last thing he had expected was to work on the murder case of his childhood sweetheart, Jackson "Jack" Overland. And with Jack alive again, things get complicated...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pushing Daisies

**Author's Note:**

> Quick explanation: This story is inspired by the TV show "Pushing Daisies", which I absolutely recommend. Derpfire (check out her tumblr) and I have been working on this AU for a while, and I finally got to write the first chapter, so there you go!

At this very moment, in the small town of Berk, young Hiccup was 15 years, 27 weeks, 6 days and 3 minutes old. He was running in a daisy field, right outside his house, alongside with his pet and best friend, Toothless.

Until that day, the two had enjoyed a simple life, full of simple things. Things like the wind blowing as they ran down the hill, and the sun warming their skin. Truly, they both lived in a childish carelessness, and if it was thanks to this that they had both come to enjoy their time together, it was also this exact carelessness that kept them both from seeing that the field they were running in led to a road where a tanker truck was speeding towards them at precisely 38 miles per hour.

When the truck hit them both, the dog Toothless was 3 years, 13 weeks, 4 days and 7 minutes old. And wouldn’t live to be a minute older.

The driver was gone as fast as he had come, and Hiccup was left lying on a floor, with a bloody leg and a friend that wouldn’t move.

The boy painfully dragged himself across the few feet that separated him from the inanimate form of his best friend. He sat up the best he could, and watched as the wind blew through the jet black fur of his pet, and the sun shown in the vacant eyes that used to be acid green.

Hiccup reached out tentatively, to stroke the dog under his chin, like he used to love. The pain shooting through the boy’s leg was in no way comparable to the one seeping through his heart. He held his breath, and waited for a miracle.

That miracle came in the form of a tiny spark flashing from his fingertip as his skin made contact with the dead dog. And suddenly, Toothless wasn’t so dead anymore. He lifted his head, and with a joyful bark went off running like nothing had happened.

That day, although Hiccup did not lose his best friends, he did lose his leg. But with that misfortune came the knowledge that Hiccup was not like the other children. Nor was he like anyone else for that matter. Young Hiccup was special. He could touch dead things and bring them back to life.

This touch was a gift given to him. But not by anyone in particular. There was no box, no instructions, no manufacture’s warranty. It just was. And at the time, it was enough. The rest, the boy could figure out later.

"Later’’ came when young Hiccup was 15 years, 28 weeks, 3 days and 45 minutes old. Having just been discharged from the hospital, he was back to living with his parents in the same small house with the yellow walls and the green furniture, and the boy was happy again, despite having one leg that wasn’t his own.

That day, Hiccup was in the kitchen, watching his father cook. He tossed a piece of rotten fruit in the trash, and Hiccup thought back on his gift. The terms of use weren’t immediately clear, nor were they of immediate concern.

The boy was in love.

Gazing out the kitchen window, young Hiccup felt his heart leap into his throat as he saw the object of his infatuation, playing in the garden across his.

His name was Jack. At that very moment, he was 14 years, 42 weeks, 3 hours and 2 minutes old. He was the boy with the brown hair that wouldn’t stay in place, and the wide smile that would never waver.

In their imagination, young Hiccup and the boy named Jack conquered the world. They were burglars craving for jewels or pirates roaming the seas. More often than not, young Hiccup was a fearless viking taming dragons, and the boy named Jack, a guardian who could make it snow. And together, they flew across the sky.

And every time, even long after their play-dates were over, Hiccup remained under Jack’s spell. He was captivated, he was in love. And nothing could pull him out of that special world where there was no one other than Jack and him.

That was, until one fateful afternoon, where Hiccup was in the kitchen with his father, watching him bake a wonderful-smelling pie. Stoick owned a small local-shop that sold home-made pies and other bake goods, and Hiccup’s childhood had been bathed in the familiar scent of fresh out the oven pastries.

As the large man placed the pie in the oven, and set out the timer, Hiccup gazed out the window once more, watching Jack play outside with his little sister. The freckled teen was daydreaming, thinking that there was nothing he wouldn't give to be with the boy he loved forever.

And just as this thought crossed the child's mind, a blood vessel in his father’s brain burst, killing him insistently.

The world stopped once more for Hiccup, as he stared down on the corpse of his father, inanimate on the white and green tiles of the kitchen floor. The boy crouched down, and, with a trembling hand, he pressed one finger to the cheek of the large man. When the spark came once more, and Stoick opened his eyes, Hiccup's knees gave out and he slumped down the floor as all the anxiety left his body. He let out a long breath, glad that things hadn't turned for the worst.

His father stood up, grumbling something about slipping and falling, and Hiccup backed down cautiously, watching his father come back to life—quite literally so.

Unbeknown to him, his gift came with a heavier burden.

The boy glanced out the window once more, a smile reaching up his lips as he saw Jack jump around the front yard of his house, his sister following behind. For a moment, watching his crush bouncing and running, and his father going back to his pies, the brunet felt truly blessed.

What young Hiccup hadn’t expected, was that what he had was a gift that not only gave… It took.

In the split of a second, the oven timer went off, and the boy saw the brunette girl running in the yard across his, trying to catching her brother. She had been 8 years, 43 weeks, 4 days and 32 minutes old, when she suddenly stopped running and dropped to the floor, dead.

That day, when he heard the voice of his crush screaming his sister's name—in vain—young Hiccup discovered that he could only bring back the dead for a minute without consequences. Any longer, and someone else had to die. In the grand universal schemes of things, young Hiccup had traded his father’s life for Jack’s sister’s.

But there was one more thing about touching dead things that young Hiccup didn’t know, and he learnt it in the most unfortunate way.

That night, when the sound of the ambulance had faded into the darkness, and Hiccup was sitting in his bed, his father came to wish him good-night. Seeing the troubled boy who couldn’t look away from his window, staring at the neighbors’ front yard, at the last place where the little girl had been alive, the large man suddenly felt a wave of pity wash over him. Not usually one to show affection, Stoick crossed the small distance that separated him from his son’s bed, and placed a gentle hand on the boy’s head.

Instantly, the man’s body went rigid, and he was thrown back on the floor with a loud _thump_ , unmoving.

Hiccup jumped out of his bed, kneeling next to his father, and pressed a finger to his cheek, like he had done a couple of hours before. Except this time, nothing happens. The boy’s blood ran cold, and his breath hitched, as he pressed a finger—then two, then three, then the whole hand—on his father’s skin, harder and harder every time the gesture made no change in the large man’s current state.

This was the second lesson young Hiccup was taught about his gift, that day: First touch, life. Second touch, death, again. Forever.

After a brief mourning period, young Hiccup’s mother would hustle him off to boarding school, never to be seen again. Jack would be fostered by his uncles Sandy and Pitch, a renowned magician duo that shared matching personality disorders, and a love for collecting different types of sands from all over the world.

At their respective relative’s funerals, dizzy with grief, curiosity and hormones, young Hiccup and the boy named Jack shared their first—and only—kiss.

After his father’s death, Hiccup avoided social attachments, fearing what he’d do if someone else he love died. And he became obsessed with pies.

**xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxox**

It was 5 years, 44 days, 6 hours and 59 minutes later, and young Hiccup wasn't so young anymore. At the age of 20 years, 34 weeks, 5 days, 7 hours and 44 minutes old, the small, lanky brunet had grown into a tall young man with messy auburn hair that fell over his forest green eyes and brushed against his freckled cheeks.

More handsome and not quite as lanky as before—but equally as awkward, the boy had grown into a man, and the man had become the Pie Maker.

And this was how he made his pies.

On the corner of a popular street in the big city of Burgess, Hiccup the Pie Maker had re-opened the "Pie Hole" his father had once owned in Berk, and now spent his time baking in the tiny kitchen of his tiny bakery. He spent countless hours, day and night, rolling and kneading dough, making carefully picked fruits into deliciously scented pies. At the Pie Hole, the peaches never browned, and the dead fruits renewed with ever-lasting flavor in the hands of the Pie Maker… As long as he only touched them once.

And so, Hiccup baked alone, if not for his dog Toothless always by his side—but always at a safe distance. Every day, he whistled quietly to himself, rarely pursing his lips tight enough to produce a sound, and baking pies he could never enjoy himself.

That morning, Hiccup was baking alone, once more, and the single waitress of the Pie Hole was talking to one of the many customers filling the booths of the dining area. She was a pretty young thing, with long blond hair tied in a braid that fell over her left shoulder. Her sleeveless red shirt hugged her chest tightly, and a little white apron was wrapped around her little brown skirt and navy blue leggings.

Her name was Astrid, and at that exact moment, at the age of 20 years, 13 weeks, 3 days, 11 hours and 53 minutes old, she was standing with one hand on a menu and one hand held confidently on her hip, in front of a tall man in his late thirties, with short hair dyed in a blueish grey and tattoos covering his arms.

That man was E. Aster Bunnymund, private investigator and regular customer at the Pie Hole. Sitting at his usual booth near the window of the shop, he looked up lazily at the blonde waitress as she spoke with animation.

« Once a month, Hiccup lets me try to bake a pie myself. I concentrate all my strength on that pie, and although we don’t technically sell it, I could always get you a slice so you can tell me what you think of— »

« ’N what pie did ya’ make today? » The man asked, a heavy Australian accent lacing his words.

« Rhubarb » Astrid announced proudly.

The man stared at her for a second, eyes travelling up and down, before speaking again.

« I’ll stick with three plum. » He deadpanned. « The one ya’ _didn't_ make. »

The girl huffed, snatching the menu out of the man’s hands, and stomped away, back into the kitchen.

E. Aster, private investigator, was also the sole keeper of the Pie Maker’s secret. He had come to gain such title after witnessing the freckled baker’s particular gift one afternoon, as he was chasing across rooftops a man he had suspected of murdering his wife’s lover. Said-man had leaped over the edge of the building, missing the next and and had plunged 10 stories to his death. He had fallen spine-first onto the edge of the container where poor Hiccup had been emptying trash at the time. An unfortunate chain of events led the man—who had undoubtably died during the impact—to bounce against the Pie Maker and take off again. The detective had stared, slack-jawed and in awe, as the Pie Maker chased and tackled the man, a few seconds later, and saw how the convict went limp again with one simple touch.

After the events of the runaway corpse, E. Aster, private investigator, had proposed a partnership with the Pie Maker. Despite being the best at his job, the detective couldn’t deny that murders were much easier to solve when you could simply ask the victim who killed them. To save his Pie Hole—on the verge of financial ruin at the time—from bankruptcy, Hiccup agreed to do whatever he could to keep his bakery open.

And so, on that particular morning, Hiccup pulled a chair at the booth where the man was sitting, pushing a plate filled with a delicious-looking slice of three plum pie. He looked from across the table, fidgeting slightly.

« Hey Aster » The baker smiled sheepishly.

« G’day, mate » The Aussie answered, barely looking up from his plate as he ferociously attacked the unsuspecting pie. « I have another zombie for ya’ to question. »

Hiccup gritted his teeth, wincing. « I told you not to use the word "zombie". It’s disrespectful. »

Aster ignored him. The brunet had always been a bit touchy with the subject of how to name the dead bodies he brought back to life for a minute.

« My bad. » The investigator shrugged. « Are ya’ interested in this opportunity or not? »

Hiccup hummed and leaned forwards, so that the conversation would stay between just the two of them, as Aster explained the mysterious case of a rich heir to a successful business, name Kristoff, allegedly killed by the family pet, Sven, despite the dog being described as docile as a kitten.

« Listen, mate. » Aster spoke quietly, pushing papers about the case back into their file. « If the dog’s innocent, it’s murder. And if it’s murder… » He smirked. « Then there's a reward. »

**xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxox**

When the Pie Maker reached his small apartment a few stories over the Pie Hole, that night, he was exhausted and wanted nothing more than to collapse on the couch and sleep. The cases with Aster, despite being simple enough and easy money most of the time, always drained every last bit of energy out of him.

Resisting the urge to belly-flop on his bed and not get up until the next morning, the Pie Maker walked out of his apartment again, and across the few feet that separated him from the neighbor’s door. He knocked twice and waited, feeling uncomfortable in his skin and slightly cold because of the chilly wind that blew through the hall.

Barely a minute later, the door opened and Hiccup looked up to find Astrid in a frilly nightgown, leaning against the doorframe.

« Hey Hiccup, » She smiled. « How was your convention? »

The brunet took a second to remember what kind of excuse he had given the blonde when he had had to leave her in charge of the Pie Hole that day and bale out early.

« Conventional. » He cleared his throat. « How was Toothless? » He stepped inside, ignoring Astrid’s flirtatious attempt to draw closer to him.

« Neurotic. » She followed him into the living room, where the TV was broadcasting the evening news. Toothless was laying on the couch, and raised his head when he heard his owner. « He’s a very needy dog. » Astrid kept on. « Do you pet him? Maybe if you’d pet him once in a while he wouldn’t be so neurotic. »

« I pet him. » Hiccup hesitated. « Well, I’m allergic so I can’t exactly touch him. But I pet him. »

Astrid frowned. She stepped around the coffee table and leaned closer to the brunet, hands reaching around the collar of his shirt.

« The dog needs to be touched. » She said and, pressing against him, she added in a whisper. « We all need to be touched… »

Hiccup gulped loudly as he tried to back away without risking to fall on top of Toothless.

« You touch him. People touch him. »

« He’s your dog. » She stated. She gabbed his hands and held them over her chest for a second, before bringing them up her shoulders. « Do you touch him? » She raised herself on her tip-toes, lips hovering close to the brunet’s. « Does anyone touch you? »

The baker froze for a second, adverting his eyes, before clearing his throat and pulling back his hands.

« Can I get Toothless’ leash, please? »

The blonde rolled her eyes, and took a step back, walking away with a huff. Hiccup glanced down at the dog on the couch.

« You don’t mind that I don’t touch you, right? » In reply, the dog gave a happy bark, and wagged his tail in obvious contentment.

And then came the event that changed everything.

The brunet’s attention was drawn back towards the television screen as the newscaster reported information about the body of a young man being recovered from the sea after being allegedly murdered during a cruise ship. Despite the victim’s identity being held, Hiccup could not tear his eyes away from the images of the limp, lifeless body of a brown-haired man being hauled out of the water. The Pie Maker listened intently to the news, unaware that the had stopped breathing.

« Here’s your leash. »

The voice of Astrid coming back into the room pulled the boy out of his thoughts, at least for a second. He quietly thanked her, and retreated back into his own apartment, where he fell asleep, haunted by the nameless man who had met his end on the high seas, but he couldn’t figure out why.

The next day, a few minutes after closing hour, Hiccup was sitting on the counter of the kitchen, completely rapt as the newscaster repeated the same informations about the nameless victim, over and over again.

The Pie Maker looked up to see Aster through the porthole window in the kitchen, seated at the counter of the bakery. Their eyes connected, and Hiccup gave a sharp nod. He went to lock the front door of the restaurant, closing the blinds as well to avoid any persistant customers that would chose to ignore the "CLOSED" sign on the door.

The brunet pulled a stool next to the investigator and sat down with his elbows pressed on the counter. The two remained silent for a second, before Aster finally spoke up.

« Been watchin’ the news lately? »

« Doesn’t seem like much going on in the world beside that dead boy on a boat. »

« A lot’s going on with that dead bloke. » Aster flipped through a file « 100,000 dollars worth or "a lot", actually. ‘Ya interested in a convo? »

« I could be persuaded. »

The tattooed man nodded. « Victim’s from a small village called Berk. Ever heard of it? »

« I grew up there. Sort of. » Hiccup hesitated for a second, at loss. « That dead boy from the small village of Berk. He got a name? »

Aster lazily flipped through the papers.

« Jackson Overland Frost. »

For a moment, Hiccup felt like all the air had been sucked out of his lungs, like someone had punched him in the stomach. He stopped breathing, his eyes wide in shock as images from almost five years ago filled his mind.

Images of a young boy and him ice-skating in the winter. Images of the boy chasing him around his parents’ yard. Images of the boy in the black suit, with whom he had shared his first kiss in the graveyard.

And, as his heart stopped beating and his fingertips turned cold, the Pie Maker couldn’t hold back the name that came tumbling out of his lips.

« Jack. »

**xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxox**

The next day, Hiccup and Aster were sitting opposite each other next to the window of a train car, heading straight towards the small village that the Pie Maker had left behind him almost 5 years ago.

« Ya’ know this bloke? » Aster asked, looking through the file once more.

« I know of him. » Hiccup eluded the question. « I haven’t thought of him since I was 15. »

« Though about ‘im a lot when ya’ were 15? »

« I don’t remember anything from when I was 15. » That was a lie. The Pie Maker remembered everything from when he was 15.

The facts were these. Jackson Overland Frost, 19 years, 24 weeks, 3 days, 11 hours and 51 minutes old, had been found floating in the ocean moments after his body had been discarded there.

Discarded by whom seemed to be a question only Jackson Overland could answer.

Moments after their conversation, Hiccup and Aster found themselves in front of the funeral home of the small village of Berk. The building was elegant and modest, with simple brick walls and a simple green hedge, as well as simple paved stairs that led to a simple wooden door.

The two walked in, passing a throng of mourners, and Aster begrudgingly slipped the funeral director some cash before walking into the viewing room, unseen. Inside the room was a simple pine casket. The sun shone through the window, bathing the room in soft hues of orange.

Hiccup stopped beside the door, turning around to face Aster as he was about to walk in.

« Um, I just wanna… I wanna… Can I do this one alone? In account of, you know, the whole historical context? »

The taller man narrowed his eyes suspiciously. He took a step closer, towering the brunet in an attempt to intimidate him… Which he perfectly succeeded to do.

« Got somethin’ personal ya’ wanna say, mate? »

« No! » Hiccup said in defense, louder than he had intended. He cleared his throat. « Maybe, yes? I just— » He let out a tired sigh. « I just want to apologize for something. One of those stupid things kids do… That they don’t know they’re doing. »

Aster stepped back, glaring. « Ya’ ask ‘im who killed ‘im, first. »

« Okay »

« Ya’ only got one bloody minute. »

« I know. »

« 60 seconds. »

« I know. »

Aster nodded, eyeing Hiccup as he walked out of the room, closing the door behind him. Finding himself alone, the Pie Maker braced his back on the door and took a moment to focus on his breaking, inhaling and exhaling deeply. With a gulp, he slowly approached the casket.

Hiccup ran his hands over the pine frame, fingers tickling the wood without really touching it, as if it would bruise under his touch. Holding his breath, he lifted the lid of the casket, bathing the body of the boy named Jack in the late afternoon sunlight.

The brunet felt his heart leap into his throat, as he took in the sight of the lifeless body that had once been the little boy he had known and loved. Jack looked perfectly different, yet perfectly identical to the boy he had left behind upon leaving Berk.

He was lying in a navy blue suit, with his arms crossed against his chest. His features were sharper than Hiccup remembered, with a jaw more angular, and less baby fat on his cheek, but there was no doubt in the world that this was the same little boy that used to live across the street when the baker was an equally little—if not little-er—boy.

Hiccup pulled up the sleeve of his shirt, and set off the timer on his watch. As the numbers started counting down from 60, the brunet leaned over the casket, and great thought was taken as to where to touch Jack. The hand was too impersonal, the lips too forward, the cheek… The cheek.

The Pie Maker’s finger hovered over the dead boy’s alabaster skin for a moment before closing in on his cheek. A small crackle of electricity, and Jack opened his eyes, blinking for a second. Hiccup stared back at him, a warm smile spreading on his lips as emerald green met chocolate brown once more.

In a fleeting, breath-taking moment, the whole world stood still. The Pie Maker was reunited with his first love, and everything was absolutely perfect.

However, that moment quickly ended when Jackson, instead of returning the smile, swiftly grabbed the collar of Hiccup’s jacket and abruptly pulled him down, slamming his head against the lid of the coffin. The baker stumbled back, groaning in pain and holding his forehead as the once-dead boy scrambled out of his coffin, grabbing a nearby chair and raising it to strike once more.

« Jack! Wait! » Hiccup called out, stepping back and holding out his hands.

The brown-eyed boy stopped and blinked for a few seconds, visibly at loss.

« Who are you? » He asked, his voice a little rasp, and distinctively deeper than it had been 5 years prior.

« Do you remember the boy that used to live next door when your sister died? »

Jack stared in confusion, and then…

« Hiccup? »

The auburn-haired boy grinned widely, not able to hold back the joy bubbling in this veins at the thought that Jack still remembered him. The clock kept ticking down. 46… 45… 44…

« Hey, hi. » Hiccup lowered his hand, taking a tentative step forward. « You look great, it’s been a while. » He cleared his throat. « Do you know what’s happening right now? »

Jack scratched the back of his head, looking away as he searched his memories.

« I had the strangest dream. I was strangled to death with a plastic sack… » He said softly.

« You were… Strangled to death with a plastic sack. » Hiccup rolled his shoulders in discomfort. « It’s probably an odd thing to hear but I wasn’t quite sure how to sugar-coat it… »

He gestured vaguely around the room, and Jack took a moment to look around. He glanced at his burial shroud, his coffin and finally the viewing room filled with flowers.

« Oh. » He hesitated. « Oh… And now I’m…? » Jack patted his chest and legs as if trying to understand something, before standing straight again and looking at the brunet on the other side of the room. « Neat. How…? »

« Can’t really explain. We only have a minute. Less. » Hiccup glanced at his watch. « 38 seconds. »

« Huh. What can I do in 38 seconds? »

« You can tell me who killed you so, you know… » The baker gripped his arm. « Justice that be served. »

« Well, thanks. » Jack’s eyes grew soft, before he bit his lip. « But I don’t know who killed me… »

Jackson vaguely explained how he had been travelling alone on a tropical cruise, and had gone to get some ice one night, but had dropped his room key down the ice maker while filling his bucket. He had been trying to reach for his keys when someone had come from behind and violently thrown a bag over his head. Last thing he remembered, he had been struggling and suffocating for air.

« … And then you touched my cheek. » Jack finished, a small smile on his lips.

A beeping noise broke the small lull in the room, and Hiccup glanced down at his watch. 15 seconds left.

« My time’s up? »

« I’m sorry… »

And in all honesty, the Pie Maker really was. Jack was just starting to get used to being alive again, and it was already over. When he saw the hint of sadness in the boy’s brown eyes, Hiccup’s heart broke a little, and all at once he was overwhelmed with many conflicted emotions. He was happy, sad, heart-broken and guilty all at once, and it made his head spin a little.

« Thanks for calling me Jack » The once-dead boy smiled. « No one’s called me Jack since… Well, since you. »

Hiccup opened his mouth to talk, but he was cut of by a sharp knock on the door, and Aster’s heavy accent filled the room.

« Heard ya’ beepin’, mate. »

« Just a second! » The brunet called.

Jack climbed back into his coffin as Hiccup held the lid up. 11… 10…

« Before you… » The baker stumbles over his words, trying to speak.

« Yeah? »

« I wanted to say, I’m— » Looking into Jack’s soft brown eyes, Hiccup found himself unable to say anything more. He desperately wanted to tell him the truth about his sister and how he had inadvertently killed her on that fateful afternoon, five years ago. But instead, the words that came out of his mouth were; « I used to… When I lived next door I had a cru— I was in lo— » He took a deep breath. « You were my first kiss. »

Jack’s lips tilted up in a soft smile. « You were my first kiss too… Wanna be my last kiss? First and last? Or is that weird? »

Hiccup smiled. « It’s not weird. It’s symmetrical. » 5… 4…

He looked at Jack and slowly moved forwards. The other closed his chestnut-colored eyes, leaning in so that their lips would hover barely an inch apart, about to connect as the promisse of their kiss hung in the air.

The Pie Maker’s lips went as far as they would go, but he couldn’t will them to go any further.

2… 1… The alarm on the brunet’s watch went off as Jack’s minute was up. The boy opened his eyes, lying there blinking just as Hiccup was pulling away from him.

Hiccup took a step back, holding himself up with a chair as the weight of his decision dawned on him. The minute had passed, which meant that somewhere, someone else had died so that Jack could keep breathing, at least for a moment more.

The guilt was clear on Hiccup’s face when he looked back at Jack.

« If you don’t want to kiss me, you don’t have to… » The not-so-dead boy shrugged sheepishly. « It was just a… I thought it might… »

« No. » Hiccup cut him off, locking eyes with the boy in the coffin. « I want to, I really do. » A smile reached his lips for a second, before he frowned in concentration. « But… What if you didn’t have to… Be dead? »

Jack chuckled. « Well that would be preferable. »

There was a firm knock once more. Hiccup’s head snapped towards the door, then back at the coffin, eyes set on Jack in determination.

« Nobody can know. » He said, reaching for the lid of the coffin. « I have to think of a way to get you out. Can you lay really still until I get back? »

« Uh, sure? » Jack nodded, unable to hide his amusement.

He laid back in the coffin, arms crossed in their original position, and Hiccup closed back the lid, shooting the boy a small smile before he did.

**xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxox**

Aster was waiting in the hall, leaning against a wall and watching a group of mourners out of the corner of his eye, when Hiccup emerged from the viewing room, quickly shutting the door behind him. He was a little sweaty and his body language was oozing of nervousness. The private investigator eyed him suspiciously as the brunet scratched his arm and walked towards him.

« He doesn’t know—Didn’t know. » Hiccup announced. His voice was tense, his shoulders slouched, and he wouldn’t look anywhere other than his feet.

« Why are ya’ sweating? » Aster asked, eyes narrowed suspiciously.

« I’m not— It’s warm in there… » The baker sputtered incomprehensible excuses, not convincing anyone other than himself, before announcing; « I think I’m gonna stay for the service. »

The taller man raised an eyebrow. « S’that so? »

« Feeling nostalgic. » Hiccup lied. « I’ll catch the next train, you remember how to get to the train station? It’s down the, uh—Great. »

The Pie Maker took a few steps backwards, retreating towards the viewing room with his hands behind his back as he waited for his partner to leave. Aster gave him a knowing look, showing that he hadn’t been fooled. But the man had some other business to attend, and no time to waste on stupid arguments, so he left.

Hiccup waited a few seconds after the private investigator was out of sight, just in case, before running back into the viewing room where a not-so-dead boy was waiting inside a coffin.

Coffin which, as it turned out, was no longer in the room.

Instead, an elderly man was standing next to some of the flowers, cleaning the room. The man had been startled by the brunet’s brutal entry, and was staring at him with wide eyes—almost milky white from near-blindness—and a hand clutching his heart. Hiccup froze.

« Where’s the deceased? » He asked, before any rational thought could kick in to tell him that this was probably a rude thing to ask.

The man said something, but his voice was soft and shaking, and the Pie Maker understood none of it.

« What? I’m sorr— You sort of mumbled. »

« He's getting buried » The man repeated.

« Presently? » Was all Hiccup could manage to ask as his stomach flipped.

The elderly man gave him a patient nod, probably thinking that he was dealing with a relative dizzy with grief.

_Oh shit_. Hiccup ran out of front door, jumping the marble stairs in front of the funeral house just in time to see the hearse pulling away. Not wasting a second, the brunet ran across the cemetery, vaulting over a few headstones—and earning an outraged cry from a grieving widow kneeling next to one of them—and finally falling into step behind the hearse.

**xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxox**

A tiny beam of light was seeping through the joint on the coffin, barely illuminating Jack as he waited, motionless with his arms crossed on his chest. Despite the oddness of the situation, he couldn’t help the beaming smile from spreading on his lips.

With a brush of fingers across his cheek, the world had become a place of magic.

Suddenly, the casket started moving, and Jack was jostled about in his minuscule wooden prison. He guessed that the coffin was being moved and—from the unfamiliar muffled voices coming from outside—it was being moved by someone who _wasn’t_ Hiccup.

The brunet fought back the hint of worry that overcame him and—more pressingly—the cries that threatened to escape his lips at each slippage of the casket. At some point, the moving stopped, and Jack slipped forwards, hitting his head of the inside of the coffin. The impact cause the supposedly-dead boy to hiss in pain, and he held his breath when the people outside the coffin made a few confused comments, before going back to their business.

And so, lying in the dark, Jack considered how he came to be lying in the dark. He thought back on the life that had been with his uncles Sandy and Pitch.

No longer nursing at the teat of prestidigitation stardom, their personality disorders had blossomed into incapacitating social phobias, which made it difficult for them to leave the house. And, in turn, it made it difficult for Jack to leave them. He never strayed far from home, and passed time by caring for a charm of hummingbirds and harvesting honey in his backyard. He read about people he could never be, on adventures he could never have.

Life was good enough, until one day… It wasn’t. Jack wanted more.

And the irony that his want for life was what had gotten him killed was not lost to the boy lying in his own coffin.

**xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxox**

When the Pie Maker reached the graveyard, the place was empty, save for two workers sticking out amongst the headstones. They were standing above a hole in the ground, tools in hand and about to sling the first shovelful of dirt on the wooden coffin. The brunet boy ran up to them, out of breath and hair sticking on his neck.

« Hey! » Hiccup called out, leaning with his hands on his knees as black spots danced before his eyes. « I think someone’s truck is on fire! »

The two men looked over his shoulder and gasped at the sight of their work truck consumed in flames. Dropping their shovels to the ground, they ran to the vehicle, leaving Hiccup alone with the coffin.

After a few quick glances to make sure no one was looking, the Pie Maker jumped into the grave, pulling the lid off the coffin. And there was Jack, lying still with his arms crossed and his eyes closed. Hiccup could have sworn the boy really was dead, if it wasn’t for the hint of a smile on his lips.

Chestnut eyes fluttered open, and pale lips stretched into a genuine smile. Sitting back with a relieved sigh, Hiccup returned the gesture.

« Sorry I’m late. »

Jack chuckled.The freckled boy stood up, almost offering his hand to help the once-dead boy out of his grave, but quickly retrieved his hand, heart leaping into his throat. The other eyed him curiously, but Hiccup shook his head.

« We’re gonna have to get you a good disguise » He said. « Gods know what would happen if someone recognised you from the news. »

Jack stood up, dusting the dirt off his clothes, and they quickly walked away from the graveyard before anyone could notice them.

« Good. » The boy said as they reached the road. « I’ve always wanted a make-over. »

**xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo**

« So I really can’t ever touch you? » 

Hiccup was currently sitting on the edge of his bed, petting Toothless with an intricate hand-shaped handle. Jack was talking to him from the bathroom, coming and going as he changed his looks.

« Not ever. » The freckled man shook his head. « One touch is enough to make you go from not-dead-anymore to dead-a-second-time, and I’d really like to avoid that, if it’s okay with you. »

« I can’t even hug you? » Jack asked, poking his head out the door. His hair was slicked back in a gooey purplish mixture that smelled of ammonia all the way from the bedroom. « What if you need a hug? »

« I’m not a fan of the hug… »  Hiccup admitted, scratching his arm. 

« Then you haven’t been hugged properly. » The other boy’s voice was louder as he talked over the sound of the running shower. 

« Still can’t touch me. » The baker repeated, smiling nonetheless. 

« So a kiss is out of the question? » Jack was back in the doorframe, leaning on his shoulder with his arms crossed over his chest. A towel was wrapped over his hair, and he started at Hiccup with a teasing smirk. 

« I… » The Pie Maker blinked. « I lost my train of thought. » 

Jack chuckled, and walked back into the bathroom. It took a few minutes more before he called back to the brunet on the bed. 

« Ready? » He asked. 

Hiccup was about to answer, but all of a sudden he found himself absolutely speechless as Jack walked out of the bedroom. The hair that had once been a deep shade of brown was now bleached to an almost silvery white color, and the eyes that were staring at the Pie Maker in anticipation were of a stunning arctic blue. Jack’s hair was messier than before, strands spiking up in every directions, but somehow it seemed to suit him better that way. All-in-all, he was simply… 

« Stunning… » Hiccup whispered. 

« You like it? » Jack beamed, slipping a hand through his snowy tangled locks. « The white hair feels a little odd… »

« You look amazing. » The brunet breathed out. They locked eyes, and Hiccup felt his cheeks heat up a little at the sight of Jack’s genuine smile. He cleared his throat. « You must be hungry. Want some pie? » 

Jack nodded, and Hiccup lead him to the small kitchen of his apartment. The white-haired boy took a seat as the baker pulled a plate from the fridge and set a slice of delicious-looking raspberry pie in front of his guest. 

Jack shot him a glowing smile as he dug his fork into the pie. Hiccup had told him that during those past 5 years, he had opened a small bakery where he spent his time making pies. The dead boy had seen the building while coming here, too, since the apartment was a few floors above the shop, and that had only made him even more curious. Ever since Hiccup mentioned his ability to bake, Jack had been dying—although not literally—to get a taste of the pastry. 

He brought a piece to his lips, and instantly held back a moan—which caused the brunet standing in the kitchen to blush furiously. 

« This is the most delicious pie I’ve ever tasted! » Jack exclaimed, mouth half full as he shoved in another forkful of pie. « Uh. » He swallowed. « Do you use a lot of butter? » 

Hiccup shook his head and, picking up a second fork on the kitchen counter, he stabbed a piece of fruit that had fallen out of the pie. Before Jack could understand what he was trying to show him, Hiccup touched the fruit with the tip of his finger, and it shrivelled right before his eyes. 

The white-haired boy stopped chewing for a second, observing the piece of dead fruit on the fork. He noticed the brunet’s tensed shoulders, as if awaiting for the resuscitated boy to freak out at any moment. Jack simply watched him with the wonder-filled eyes of a child on Christmas morning. 

« That’s amazing. » He chirped, swallowing his mouthful of pie and wiping his lips with the back of his hand. « Do it again. » 

« No, eat your pie. » Hiccup frowned, but the small smile at the corner of his lips gave away his amusement. 

« Never had so much in common with a pie, before. » Jack smirked, and going back to the point, he asked. « Why didn't you touch me twice? I haven’t seen you in 5 years… »

Really, he wanted to know. This was all so overwhelming. 

« I have a good memory? » Hiccup slipped his hand in the hair of his neck, fingers playing with the two small braids behind his right ear. 

« I always wondered if you’d come back. » Jack admitted, eyes lost in the vague as he lazily pushed a fruit in his plate with the tip of his fork. « I guess you came back when I needed you the most. » He blinked. « Well, that would’ve been before I was killed… » Hiccup cringed, but Jack shot him a smile « But this worked out. » 

The Pie Maker hesitated for a second. « You understand you can’t go back, right? You can’t see your uncles… » 

« They’re shut-ins. » Jack pouted. « It’s not like they talk to anybody… » 

« People aren’t used to this sort of thing. » Hiccup explained. « There’d be issues of morality and " _how come he’s not dead anymore?_ ", and… It’d be a disaster… » 

Jack nodded sadly, and the baker’s heart broke a little at the sight of the other boy’s dejected expression. But this wasn’t something they could take lightly. 

Jack sighed in resignation. « I suppose dying is as good excuse as any to start living my own life… » He said, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. 

The conversation was interrupted when Jack noticed the back dog sitting by his feet next to the chair, electric green eyes staring intently at him with a mix of anticipation and displeasure. 

« I don’t think your dog likes me… » Jack frowned. 

Hiccup leaned over the table, and watched as Toothless refused to break eye contact with the stranger sitting at his table. 

« Ah, no… » The brunet shook his head. « Toothless is just a bit testy because I haven’t introduced him to you. » He smiled. « Jack, this is Toothless. » He gestured at the canine. « Toothless, you remember Jack? » 

The baker chuckled when the dog gave a bark of approval, satisfied to be acknowledged. 

« Toothless? » Jack asked, eyebrows raised. « Wasn’t your old dog named Toothless? » 

Hiccup nodded. « That’s him. » 

He waited patiently as Jack put two-and-two together. Suddenly, the white-haired boy froze, blinking in confusion.

« Did he…? Did you…? And now he’s…? » Hiccup nodded. « You seem to do this a lot. » Jack smiled, leaning forward on the table, looking up to the brunet. 

« It’s just the two of you… » The Pie Maker smiled sheepishly, hoping that his words would come off as sweet and romantic, and not utterly creepy and suspicious. « Now, I don’t mean to be a bad host, but I’m sort of exhausted from chasing your coffin… » He yawned to emphasize his point. 

« Oh. Of course. » 

Hiccup walked back into the living room, crossing to the couch and laid down, fully clothed. He rolled to his side, facing Jack again.

« I’m gonna sleep here, you take the bed. » He said, and before the other could argue, he lifted a finger « I insist. » Another yawn. « My eyes are rolling back into my head. I’m lying down now. »

Jack stood for a few minutes more into the living room, leaning with one shoulder against the doorframe. He watched with a small smile as the brunet on the couch fell into a sound sleep, snoring quietly. The white-haired boy chuckled. 

« I’d kiss you if it wouldn’t kill me. » Jack whispered.

** xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxox  **

Sitting on the messy covers of Hiccup’s bed, Jack found that he couldn’t sleep. Maybe it was the giddy excitement of his second life, or maybe it was because his—however short—experience with death had left him plenty rested, for the time being at least. 

Mindlessly petting Toothless, whose head rested on his knees, the white-haired boy had been flipping through the channels on the small TV set in the corner of the bedroom. In-between commercials, Jack had stopped on a news channel that had his face plastered in full screen. It showed him smiling widely at the camera, with sunburns on his shoulders and a bright blue cap on his chocolate-brown hair.

He remembered that picture. It had been taken by the crews’ company a couple of days after they had casted off. It really wasn’t the best picture of him out there, but that was the last thing on the boy’s mind at the time. Raising the volume a little, Jack paid careful attention to the newscaster’s words, as his picture still loomed over her shoulder.

« 19 year-old "Lonely Tourist" Jackson Overland was laid to rest earlier today. » The woman said with her voice monotonous and her eyes looking straight through the camera.

Instinctively, Jack switched channel, seeing the newscasters change but his picture always staying the same, framed by similar headlines each and every time. 

« A passenger heard a commotion just moments before the victim’s body fell past his win— » 

« The uncles of Lonely Tourist Jackson Overland are now in mourning— » 

« The police still has no lead as to why— » 

Clicking through the programs, Jack felt incredibly dizzy as he watched complete strangers talk about a death from which—unbeknown to them—he had magically been cured. And so, sitting on a strange bed with a dog that had died and cured from it as well, Jack watched his own funerals on the evening news, and was suddenly struck by the undignified nature of his celebrity.

No one wants to be known for the way they died. 

He kept switching channels, trying to make sense of the fragments of sentences—but too afraid to actually settle on just one program— when one of the newscaster mentioned something that poked his interest more than the details on his demise. 

« Boutique Travel travel boutique has offered a 100,000 dollar reward for the murder of customer Jackson Overland. » 

The white-haired boy’s hand gripped the fabric of his pants, frowning slightly as he did not recall anyone mentioning a reward. He stood up—ignoring Toothless’ disapproving huff—and tiptoed back to the living room. 

Hiccup was asleep on the couch, lying on his stomach with his limbs dangling from the edge in awkward angles. His neck was craned towards the back of the couch—which couldn’t be anything but painful—with his mouth opened and light snores purring from his lips.

Jack crouched near the sleeping boy, keeping a respectable distance between the couch and him in case of any startled flailing. 

« Hiccup? » He called, his voice barely over a whisper, but in the silence of the living-room, if seemed incredibly loud. 

However, it wasn’t loud enough to pull the Pie Maker from his unconscious state.

« Hiccup. » Jack called again, raising his voice a little more. 

Nothing. The brunet was still completely dead to the world—though not quite the way Jack was supposed to be—and wouldn’t even flinch at the mention of his name.

With a pout, Jack stood up and turned his back to the couch. On the table, he found the stick-like device he had seen the other boy use as a tool to pet his dog. Grabbing it, he regained his initial position near the couch and gently jabbed the thing in the brunet’s shoulder—a little harder when all he got was a groan.

Instantly, the emerald eyes snapped opened, head lifting in a moment of half-conscious state of panic. He turned to see a white-haired boy watching him with an amused grin. Hiccup’s shoulders relaxed a little when he realized that there was no immediate threat, and he let out a yawn. 

« Jack? » He asked in sleepy confusion. « What are you— Did you just poke me with Toothless’ stick? » His eyes went from the boy next to the couch to the device in his hand. 

« Would I be alive right now if I knew who killed me? » Jack asked, ignoring the previous question. 

« Of course, don’t be silly. » The brunet’s eyebrows knitted together in worry, wondering what could’ve brought such a thought. Noticing the remote control in the boy’s other hand, he understood. « It’s a— Something on the news about the reward? »

« You said you wanted to know who killed me so justice could be served. » The white-haired boy said. His statement wasn’t accusing or angry, he just wanted to know the truth.

« I— » Hiccup took a deep breath. « I wouldn’t have known you’d died if it weren’t for the reward. » He locked eyes with Jack, trying to convey the honesty of his words. He really didn’t want the boy to start hating him because of that.

« When were you going to tell me? » « In the morning, or when it came up? » The brunet scratched the back of his neck anxiously. With a sheepish smile, he added. « Whichever didn’t come first… » 

« 100,000 dollars makes a lot of pies. » Jack frowned slightly, but it was more out of focus than because he was upset.

« 50 thousands. I have a business partner. » Spilling everything then and there really wasn’t making him look like a good person. Not even a decent one. In fact, it probably had the exact opposite effect. But if there was one thing Hiccup couldn’t do at that moment, it was lie to Jack. 

« It’s a business? » The boy’s voice rose slightly in both surprise and curiosity.

« Not in the traditional sense… » Jack hummed in understanding. 

« You touch murder victims. » He said, trying to untangle this somewhat complicated scheme. « You ask them who killed them, touch them again, then go back to being dead and you collect the reward? »

« Yeah… » The brunet had an uncomfortable smile. This really didn’t seem like flattering hobby, when put that way. « That’s it in a nutshell. »

« Are you after my reward? I’m not mad, I just want to know. » Jack asked without missing a beat—and he seemed surprisingly unbothered by the whole situation. Before the brunet could answer, he lifted a finger. « I’ll be mad if you lie to me, though. Is that why you’re keeping me around? » 

For a second, Hiccup couldn’t say anything. He was left staring at the boy in front of his with wide eyes and his mouth agape. His heart tore a little when he realized that Jack was asking if the Pie Maker had only revived him—and kept him alive, consequences be damned—for the sole purpose of getting information out of him and collecting the reward for his murder. 

Hiccup could never be this heartless, but how could Jack know that? They hadn’t spoken in five years, or seen each other since they were teenagers. People changed. And, if he was being honest, all the evidence pointed in that direction.

Gulping down the lump in his throat—as well as the piece of him that wanted to stutter a pointless explanation about how he had only done what he had because of a stupid childhood crush that had resurfaced at the most inappropriate time, that he wasn’t like that, and that he was so sorry—the brunet’s eyes rose to meet vibrant blue ones, and answered in the most honest way possible. 

« I don’t want your reward. » 

Jack’s eyes narrowed. « I’ll be so angry if you’re lying. » He said. « Don’t make me get mad at you. I’ll attack your drapes. » 

« I’m not lying. » Hiccup answered, his voice genuine. His eyes landed at on the curtains for a second and added, the corner of his lips tugging into a lopsided smile. « Don’t be mad… And please don’t damage the window treatments. »

The white-haired boy’s gaze softened, and he returned the smile with a nod. 

« Okay. Go back to sleep. » 

He stood up, returning to the bedroom. A sudden wave of exhaustion taking over him—and it seemed to only dawn on him now what had happened to him in the last few hours—Jack collapsed on the bed, surprising the dog that had been lying there. Rolling to his side, he faced the wall next to the bed, knowing that on the other side of it laid Hiccup.

In a moment of mindless silliness, the white-haired boy reached out and pressed his palm to the wall, eyes closing softly. His breath hitched in his throat, and he caught himself wishing that he could feel the brunet’s warm skin under his hand, instead of the cold surface of the smooth wall.

Unbeknown to him, in the other room, Hiccup was facing that exact same wall with his palm pressed almost precisely where Jack held his. It wasn’t warm enough, or soft enough to be the other boy’s hand, but at that very moment, it was all the comfort they needed. 

** xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxox  **

The morning sun was seeping through closed curtains, bathing the room in warm tones of red and yellow. When Jack’s eyes fluttered open, he found himself facing an unfamiliar wall with an unfamiliar wallpaper. He sat up, and rubbed his eyes sleepily. With a quick glance around the room that definitely wasn’t his, his memory came back and he remembered where he was. 

In the room of his childhood crush, Hiccup. Hiccup, who he hadn’t seen in five years before yesterday. Hiccup, who had brought him back to life with a magical touch of his finger. 

Smiling softly, Jack thought about how odd life was sometimes, and how lucky he was to get a second one. 

Throwing his legs over the edge of the bed—and trying not to kick Toothless, Hiccup’s dead-then-alive-again dog, in the face—he turned to get up and noticed the note taped to the lamp shade next on the nightstand. 

"Please do NOT leave this apartment." 

Barely a moment later, Jack was slamming the door of Hiccup’s apartment, wrapped in a light coat and baby-blue scarf. When he turned around, he was surprised to see a woman coming out of the apartment right next to the Pie Maker’s, standing outside with her hand still on the doorknob. 

Astrid eyed the newcomer carefully. The sight was surprising, to say the least. Hiccup rarely had any visitors, except for the few times Aster came over. Scratch that. Hiccup never had visitors. Not at his apartment, anyway. Yet there she was, looking at the boy that had come out of the brunet’s apartment, very much alone as she knew that Hiccup was already downstairs baking in the Pie Hole. 

As the blonde started at the odd stranger, and tried to figure out what his relationship with the Pie Maker was, the boy spoke: 

« I’m a friend of Hiccup’s. » He said, voice deeper than she had expected. 

Astrid sized him up for a moment, glancing up and down and detailing every part of him with a disapproving scowl. She narrowed her eyes and, with a hand set fiercely on her hip, she pointed a finger at the boy.

« Does he touch you? » 

** xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxox **

The Pie Hole was empty of any customers. Which wasn’t surprising, considering it would only open in a few minutes. In a b ooth near the window, Aster was sitting opposite of Hiccup, leaning back against the cushiony seat with a slice of pie sitting on the table in front of him.

« How was the service? » The Australian asked. 

« You know… » Hiccup shrugged. « Paid my respects. » 

The man raised an eyebrow, looking at him suspiciously. He crossed his arms on his chest and asked. 

« Weren’t lookin’ to get paid, were ya’ mate? » The brunet looked at him in confusion, but the investigator didn’t buy this innocent demeanor. « Some might see a dead chick speakin’ to ya’ in confidence as an opportunity to make a whole lot’a money by your self. » He gave Hiccup a pressing look. « _Regardless_ of prior arrangements. »

« There’s no opportunity there. » Hiccup shook his head nervously. 

Although this was clearly the truth, he _was_ in fact lying to Aster about something—that "something" being that the dead boy from the day before wasn’t as head as everyone thought, and was currently sleeping in the Pie Maker’s bed upstairs.

Just as the private investigator was about to argue with that, they heard the chiming of the front door bell. Before they could turn around to greet the newcomer, Jack was sliding in the booth next to Aster. « Hi! » He said with a wide smile.

« Are you the business partner? » 

« Yes. » Aster glared. 

« Doesn’t he look just like that dead boy from the news? » Astrid asked, plopping her elbows on the back of the seat where the two males were sitting, her blonde braid falling over her shoulder as she lead over them from behind the booth. 

Aster turned to Hiccup, a tense smile on his lips. « He looks exactly like that dead boy. » He said, stressing each word. 

« No offence. » Astrid said, tapping Jack’s shoulder. « He was pretty cute. » 

« Astrid. » Hiccup snapped. He threw a look towards the kitchen. « Pie time. »

The blonde’s shoulders slumped. She huffed. « Pie time. » 

With a few angry mumbles—and a furious kick in one of the bar stools—she turned her back to the trio and stomped her way into the kitchen. 

« I’m Jackson Overland. » Jack said, breaking the silence and holding out a hand for Aster to shake. « Call me Jack. »

The Australian only stared, any trace of surprise having felt his eyes, leaving only a clear displeasure. Hiccup groaned, burring his face in his arms crossed on the table. 

« I’ve been thinking. » Jack continued with a smile, unbothered by the reactions around him. « How about we solve my murder and collect the reward? » 

Aster turned to the Pie Maker, anger evident now. « He’s supposed to be in tha' ground. »  He hissed through his teeth. 

Hiccup gave him an apologetic look before turning to Jack. 

« I thought you didn’t want the reward? » He asked. 

« No. » Jack shook his head. « I didn’t want _you_ to want the reward. » He shrugged. « 100,000 dollars is a lot of money. How about a 3 way slip? 30-30-40? » He lifted a hand when Aster was about to argue. « It’s only fair I get more. I did die for it. » 

The brunet gulped his anxiety down, trying not to let the knot in his stomach get the best of him. 

« I’m not a detective, I make pies. » He said nervously.

« You can’t just touch someone’s life and be done with it. » The white-haired boy argued. 

« Yes I can. » Hiccup replied, but his voice was closer to a moan of desperation than anything else. He pressed his chin on the table, hands reaching up to grab the hair on the back of his head. « That’s usually how I roll, actually. » 

« For someone who brings people back to life, you’re awfully dead inside. »

The brunet’s jaw dropped, stunned. He stared pitifully at Jack, who was addressing him a challenging look. Suddenly, Aster clapped his hands on the table, causing the Pie Maker to nearly jump out of his skin. 

« I could do 30-30-40. » He said. 

Hiccup let out a whine. He was hoping that at least Aster would back him up on this. He turned to Jack, his voice more pressing, trying to convey the urgency and danger of the situation. 

« You’re supposed to be dead. » He said. « I think this is pushing you luck. » 

Jack huffed. « Yeah well… » He grinned maliciously. « Luck pushed me first. »

** xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxox  **

« This is so _shockingly_ stupid, I have a hard time believing ya’ did it. »

Hiccup had been pacing in the kitchen for the past five minutes, with Aster standing in a corner, out of his way. With quick glances in the dining area, he could see Astrid chatting with Jack. 

The brunet’s head snapped towards the investigator, eyes wide. 

« You just agreed to be his partner! » He accused. 

« I intend to profit from your stupidity. » Aster shrugged, enjoying his new-found role as a bully to the tormented baker. Hiccup whined loudly, collapsing on the kitchen table, hitting his head on the surface. « Are ya’ in love with the bloke? » The private investigator asked, leaning back against the stove, an eyebrow raised. « ‘Cause it’s that level of stupid. » 

« I don’t know. » The brunet moaned, his shoulders slumping. He raised his head, shooting Aster a pitiful look. « This is a very confusing time. Childhood issues. Digging in the ground. » He buried his face in his hands. « It’s all coming up. » 

« Oi. We all have childhood issues, mate. » Aster frowned. He really wasn’t in the mood to listen to some petty explanation. « Don’t go blamin’ it on not gettin’ enough hugs from your momma as a kid. »

Hiccup peeked between two fingers. « I kinda killed his little sister when I was 15. » 

« Oh. » 

« He doesn’t know. » The Pie Maker explained, turning his back to the table and gripping the edge as a support, like an anchor that kept him from just breaking down and screaming. « I wanted to make it better… Or at least different from what it was, because what it was was him being dead, and I didn’t want that to be my fault too. » 

« So who died instead? » Aster asked, restraining his wrath for when he’d have the unsuspecting victim’s identity. 

Hiccup’s shoulders tensed. He pulled a newspaper from the back pocket of his black jeans, and handed it to the Australian. It was folded open on the obituaries, where the picture of the—now deceased—funeral director was circled in red.

« It’s a random proximity thing. » The baker admitted in a mutter.

Aster glared. « Lemme’ get this. » He hissed, looking up from the paper. « Ya’ knew I was right behind the door, ’n still risked trading dead-boy’s life for mine? »

Hiccup cringed at the accusation. « I wasn’t thinking! » He cried, throwing his hands up in the air. « I’m not _proud_. » 

« Ya’ better not be! » The taller man chastised. « You don’t know tha’ bloke! You don’t know anythin’ about ‘im, except he got himself killed. » He pointed and accusing finger. « And ya’ know who doesn’t get themselves killed? Cute lil’ boys who haven’t changed the slightest since they were 15 and never leave the house. »

Hiccup pursed his lips. He hadn’t considered that Jack could be anything but the little boy next door he had fallen in love with. He’d only ever had charitable thoughts and his heart was filled with kindness. Jack was that little boy, and would still be until proven otherwise.

« I’m telling ya’, your boy-toy’s hiddin’ something. » 

The Pie Maker was about to argue, when a voice came from behind him. 

« He’s right. »

Hiccup turned around to see Jack in the frame of the kitchen door, bitting his lips in hesitation. The brunet opened his mouth in shock, a bit at loss from the other boy’s intervention. 

« I’m not that small-town boy who never saw the world outside of his uncle’s house, Hiccup. » He muttered, words burning his lips as he spoke. « Well I am, but I’ve also been hiding something from you. » 

« Told ya’. »  Aster smirked in self-satisfaction. 

Hiccup glared, then turned to Jack again, eyes wide in confusion and worry. « Jack? » 

« The cruise... » The white-haired boy sighed. « I wasn't just– It was– » He took a deep breath, trying to find the words that would fit the situation. « It was a devil's trap. They lured me in with the promise of a free Tahitian getaway if I would just get a briefcase from their contact once across the border… »

« Drugs? » The private investigator asks, as Hiccup seemed unable to speak at that time. 

« What? No! » Jack gasped. « They were a couple of plaster monkeys. Completely worthless from what I was told. » 

« Ain’t so worthless if it’s worth killin' someone over, mate. » Aster scoffed. 

« You died over a pair of monkeys? » The Pie Maker asked, incredulous. 

« The travel lady said they only had sentimental value. » The white-haired man frowned, as it finally hit him that he had been completely played with. « Let’s go ask her, I’m very curious what she has to say abut this… »

** xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxox **

Boutique Travel travel boutique was a little shop in one of the less populated streets of Berk, but being the only traveling agency in town, it had its fair share of popularity. The shop in itself was quite inviting, with appealing advertisement for exotic locations and promises of azure seas and white-sand beaches. 

A framed picture and inappropriately-cheerful message in the window served as a reminder that the shop would offer a 100,000 dollars reward to whom would solve the death of Jackson Overland. 

The white-haired boy cringed. He certainly hadn't expected his death to be used as a shrewd marketing ploy. 

Pulling the hood of his coat closer to his face—which to anyone watching would only appear as an innocent gesture to hide from the wind—Jack stepped aside to let Hiccup and Aster enter the shop first. 

The door opened with a chiming of a bell, but the front desk had been deserted, and the shop seemed to be empty, despite the bright sign in the front window stating otherwise. 

« They closed? » Aster asked to his companions, looking around the shop, before addressing a louder; « ’Ello? Anyone home? » 

« Seems like another thing they apparently lied about. » Jack grumbled, flipping the sign in the door. Even while exploring the shop, he stayed slouched behind the two taller males in case anyone walked in unexpectedly.

« Try the back room. » Hiccup suggested. Aster nodded, and walked around the front desk to enter the small room in the back of the store, before stopping short at the sight of the figure sitting at the break table with a plastic bag over their head, arms limp and neck snapped backwards. 

« Great. » 

« Did you find—Oh. » Jack stopped right behind Aster, lips pressing in a thin line as he watched the inanimate body of the now-deceased travel agent that had sent him to his death. « Guess I can’t be too mad at her, now, right? » 

« Yeah yeah yeah. We’re _all_ very glad ya’ got over your grudge, mate. » Aster rolled his eyes. « ’Not sure if that counts since someone already did the revenge thing before ya’ could, but sure, congrats. » He elbowed Hiccup. « Now touch the bitch and ask her who did it. » 

The brunet sighed, pulling a chair next to the dead woman behind the table. He carefully pulled the plastic bag off her head with a pencil, and readied his watch. With a sheepish smile to Jack, the Pie Maker touched the woman’s hand, and a familiar zap of electricity echoed in the zoom. 

Immediately, her eyes snapped open, and she blinked in confusion. Her gaze fell on Jack on the other side of the room, and she etched a smile of bright ned lips. 

« Hey Jackson! » She cooed, batting heavily painted eyelashes at him. 

« Hey Gothel! » Jack mimicked her enthusiasm, but his voice was bitter. 

« Weren’t you murdered? » The woman asked in an amused surprised, like you would when meeting an old friend somewhere unexpected. 

« I was, thanks about that by the way! » 

« Real sorry about that, sweetie! » She chuckled, her greying black locks bouncing around her face. « I would’ve said something, but I really didn’t want to end up… » Gothel glanced around herself. « Well like this actually! » She added, just as perky as before. 

« Ask ‘er who killed you, mate! » Aster interrupted. « And what’s with the monkeys? » 

« Who are those people? » Gothel asked, looking from Jack to Aster and Hiccup. 

« That’s Aster. » Jack gestured to the Australian. « I don’t know him that much, but he’s a bit of a pain in the ass. » Ignoring t he outraged cry of the private investigator behind him, Jack sent a side-way glance to Hiccup, blushing slightly as a smile reached his lips. « And that’s Hiccup, he was my first kiss. » 

The Pie Maker’s face turned beet-red, and the travel agent watched him with an amused grin. She leaned forwards, detailing the boy more closely. 

« Well aren’t you just adora— » 

In a slip of a second, the woman had reached her perfectly manicured hand over the table, and pinched Hiccup’s cheek before he could react. Instantly, her hand went limp and her head flopped back on the desk with a loud _thump_. 

The Pie Maker stayed frozen for a second, wide eyes darting from the body to Jack, trying to grasp what had happened. Aster sighed, pitching the bridge of his nose. 

« Couldn’t ya’ just… Not let the dead bodies touch you whenever they feel like it, mate? We still had some questions… » 

« I—I didn’t think she’d—…Why would she—… » 

« Erm… I should’ve mentioned that she’s a pretty touchy person… » Jack winced, brows furrowed as he understood his mistake. 

« Ya’ think? » Aster spat, and he turned to Hiccup. « Whoever killed dead-boy here came to finish the work. Why’d they do that if they already got the monkeys? » 

« They don’t… » Jack breathed out, horror in his voice. The room went silent and the two other males turned their attention to him. He was watching the brunet with eyes wide in panic. « I dropped my keys in the ice maker. They couldn’t get into my room. »

« They don’t have the monkeys. » Hiccup repeated, a grave expression on his face. 

« When you get murdered on a boat… » Jack said, his voice unsure and laced with worry. « Where do they send all of your stuff? » 

Aster answered before anyone else could. 

« Your next of kin. » 

** xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxox **

When Aster’s car entered the street where Jack and Hiccup had grown up, it was already night-time. The streets were illuminated by the faint glow of lightposts perfectly aligned in front of the colorful houses. In the otherwise cheerful neighborhood, one specific house stuck out, with garnet red walls and nearly black shutters and roof-tiles. The residence’s inhospitable aura mostly came from the jet black steel gate forbidding all access inside. 

The house sent one message, and that message was clear: Don’t bother knocking, you’re not welcomed here. 

Hiccup couldn’t refrain from culling loudly in fear as their car stopped right in front of the gates. He fidgeted in the passenger seat, earning an annoyed scowl from Aster. 

« Watcha gettin’ all squeamish for? » He scolded. « It’s just a bloody house, ya’ look like you’ve seen a ghost. » 

« My last memory from this place wasn’t exactly a pleasant one… »  The Pie Maker explained.

Hiccup was referring to the time he had accidentally killed Jack’s sister when they were 15, and then had been sent to the house when his own father had died and his mother was dealing with the paramedics. 

Oblivious to that fact, Jack chose that exact moment to pop out from the back seat, leaning between the two mans with a grin on his face as he added; 

« When he was little, Hiccup used to think my uncles where actual wizards and would turn him into a bird. » 

The private investigator had a scornful laugh, and the brunet next to him felt his cheeks burn bright red. 

« I wasn’t— I didn’t think that! » He tried to defend himself, very unconvincingly. 

« You totally did. » Jack chuckled, addressing him a cheeky grin.

« Moving on… » The boy muttered, « I don’t think we can barge in just like that… It seems impolite. » 

« Who cares! » Aster groaned.

« He’s right, Bunny… » Jack shook his head. « My uncles aren’t really thrilled by unannounced company. Things could easily take an… Unpleasant turn. »

« Wait wait wait! » Aster interrupted. « Who’re you callin’ a bunny, mate? » 

« You kinda look like a cute lil’ bunny. » Jack smirked, ruffling the Aussie’s hair, only to have his hand swatted away. 

« He’s not wrong, you know. » Hiccup chuckled. 

« Back to tha’ point. » Aster huffed, glaring menacingly at Jack. 

« Well… » The white-haired boy frowned in worry. « They’ve pretty much been living as recluses ever since their incident… » 

The facts were these: For 20 years, 33 weeks, and 3 days, Uncle Pitch and Uncle Sandy had bathed in the renown of their prestidigitation duo. As their glory had faded with the many, many years in the show-business, the two brothers had held on for as long as they could. But, during one unfortunate performance, a moment of negligence led to Pitch stabbing himself in the eye with his wand, consequently falling off the stage and landing mouth-first in the tiers.

Magic was a tricky business. Not only did Pitch lose an eye and his front tooth, that night, but with only three fourth of their visual abilities, both brothers had to give up their careers as well. 

Bitter and humiliated, they retreated behind a closed fence, and made sure the world stayed on the other side. 

« But that’s the only choice we have. » Jack concluded, a worried look on his face as he gazed out of the car, towards the single illuminated window on the dark house. He knew that delaying any form of action would undoubtedly increase the risk of any harm being done to his uncles. 

« Dead boy’s right. » Aster interfered, ignoring the dark look he got from the nickname. « No point in stallin’ any longer, let’s go before we have two more bodies on our hands. » 

Jack unclipped his seatbelt, but before his hand could reach the door handle, Hiccup was turning in his seat to face him, giving him a remorseful look.

« Jack… I don’t think you should come. » He said, as if the mere fact of speaking those words were breaking his heart. 

« I just want to look in the window. » Jack pouted. « You can’t just leave me in a car like a pet dog. »

« He’s right. » Aster said, ready to leave the car. « He can crack the window open by himself, let’s go. »

« We can’t take the risk. » The brunet sighed. « You can have your pie, but you can’t eat it, that’s how it works. » 

The Pie Maker knew that rule all too well. After all, Jack was his pie, and he could never have a single bite of it. 

« But what if something happens to them because of me? » Jack's breathing was short and panicked, and he looked up at the brunet with pleading eyes. « Hiccup, I couldn’t live with myself if they got hurt. I'd die... Again! » 

At this instant, the Pie Maker wanted nothing more than to pull Jack close to him, wrap his arms around him and nuzzle his neck while whispering sweet promises that everything would be just fine. But he couldn't. He could never touch the white-haired boy in his life, and a little piece of him died at that though. And he very much doubted that a touch would suffice to bring it back to life again. 

« Jack I— I'm sorry but you can't. » Hiccup stuttered. « What if they saw you? They'd think they've gone insane. They could drop dead just at the sight of you... It's really best for them if you stayed inside... »

« Ya' heard your man, stay put. » Aster interrupted, pointing at the back seat like he would order a dog. He turned to Hiccup. « Now let's go, mate, we haven't got all night. » 

The brunet sent an apologetic look at Jack, who was staring sadly at his hands on his lap. He excited the car, following Aster closely behind—but not without glancing at the car every three steps until they reached the front door.

When they stopped in front of the large mahogany door, Hiccup hesitated for a second before pressing the door bell. A loud buzz echoed from the inside, making the brunet flinch. A few seconds later, the door cracked open, and Aster and Hiccup found themselves looking down on a very small, pudgy man with messy blond hair and a bright yellow bathrobe. He gave the duo a questioning look, but said nothing. 

« Err, hi. » The Pie Maker said. « My name is Hiccup, I used to live in the house on the other side of the street, 5 years ago. I'm a friend of Jackson's. » He coughed. « Or I was, rather. » 

The man gave a quick nod, but didn't tear his gaze away from the two males. Hiccup followed; 

« I know it's quite late, but I was hoping you could let us in to pay our respects and discuss a matter regarding Jack. » 

The man tilted his head to the side, but moved out of the way to let the two in. As they stepped in the heavily decorated hall, Aster nudged the brunet, drawing his attention to him. 

« I know it's late, but a "hello" woulda' been nice. » He whispered. 

Hiccup shook his head, and tapped his lips quickly in a silent explanation that the man was mute. Aster reacted with a simple "Ah." before the blond man walked into view again, gesturing for them to follow. 

The living room was even more cluttered than the entry hall. Every available surface was covered in trinkets and stuffed doves staring at them with tiny pearly black eyes. On a dark red couch was sitting a man with ashen skin and crow black hair slicked backwards. He was wearing a robe as dark as his hair, and was leaning back with a glass of scotch in his hand. He was thin and tall, the exact opposite of the man that had let them in earlier. 

Kosmotis Pitchiner "Pitch" Black had always terrified Hiccup as a child, and it seemed that things were no different now than they were back the Pie Maker repressed a shiver when the man’s cold, golden eyes fell on him. 

« What kind of strays did you bring in now, Sandy? » The man asked, turning to face his brother as the newcomers seemed unworthy of his attention. 

The brunet cleared his throat. « My name's Hiccup, sir. I used to live next door when I was younger. »

Pitch detailed the boy in front of him for a second. « Ah, you were than skinny kid with the freckles everywhere, weren't you? » He asked, taking a sip of his drink. Hiccup nodded.

« Yes. »

« What can I do for you, boy? »

« Actually, I came here to talk about Jackson. »

The man's grip on his glass tightened at the name, turning his joints white and his eyes hardened like steel. But he quickly regained composure, and gestured for the two men to sit in the couch in front of him. Before the conversation could start again, Hiccup felt a tug on his sleeve, and turned to see Sandy holding a platter with a glass of water and a few crackers. He took the glass—grateful to have something to occupy his hands with—and smiled, mouthing a silent "thank you". 

« Jackson was a nice kid. » Pitch said, surprising the two men in front of him. « But he wouldn’t stay still for all the gold in the world. Always waddling around doing something, that boy… » His voice was controlled, concealing the sadness behind his words. « Horrible, the way he died… » 

« At least he had a glimpse of the world… » Hiccup offered, comforting the man the best he could. 

Pitch gaze met the brunet’s eyes for a long minute, before he grabbed his glass and drunk it all in one gulp, setting it firmly back on the table with a chime of crystal. 

« The world isn’t that great. »

** xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxox **

Jack huffed from the back seat of the car, arms crossed on his chest. He hated being confined in the car like a child, when he could be outside seeing his uncles again. He didn’t blame Hiccup—He was just trying to protect him. But this was taking so long and he was so bored. 

Ignoring the nagging voice in his mind commanding him to stay inside, he slipped out of the car and into the chilly night. 

The gate was still opened, and the white-haired boy was grateful that he didn’t have to climb over it. He tip-toed around the house, but before any rational thoughts could kick in, Jack was peeking through the window of the living room, watching the back of his uncles as they talked with Aster and Hiccup. 

It weighed on his heart that he only realized now that the two neurotic men on the other side of that window were the only family he had, and yet would never get to see them again. And it that moment, for the life of him, Jack couldn’t remember why he had been so desperate to leave this house—and his uncles—behind. 

In the living room, Hiccup turned his head towards the window, and his eyes met the white-haired boys’, who addressed him a sheepish wave. Eyes wide, Hiccup tried not to lose his focus, and turned back towards Jack’s uncles, trying to keep their attention away from the window.

« This might sound like an odd request, but when the cruise line returned Jack’s belongings, did they leave you with a stainless steel briefcase? » 

With a small smile, the other ducked out of view and walked around the house until he reached the wooden arch under his bedroom window. The thing had been proven useful when Jack had been in his rebellious years and felt the need to escape the house from time to time.

Luckily, despite being a little out of practice, the arch still supported his weight and clumsy attempts at climbing, and in no time the boy was standing on the balcony. Careful not to make any noise, Jack opened the glass door, and was hit with a foreign feeling of nostalgia. It had barely been a week since he had last left this house, but standing there, surrounded by the familiar furniture or his old bedroom, Jack felt his heart swell. 

With his mind jumbled in a confusion of homesickness and regret, those monkeys of indeterminate sentimental value lying in the steel briefcase on his bed took a new sentimental value for Jack. He decided, then and there, that if he couldn’t keep his uncles, he would keep the monkeys. 

Suddenly, the sound of footsteps coming up the stairs startled Jack, and he felt his stomach leap into his throat. Not losing a second, the white-haired boy snapped the briefcase open and stuffed the monkeys into his coat, before slamming the case shut and slipping outside. 

Pitch came into the room a second later, narrowly missing the shuffle of the curtains and the soft sound of the window being shut. He stopped next to the bed, and stared at the briefcase for a while. He didn’t remember Jack having anything like that, but he had been assured that his was amongst the boy’s belongings during the cruise. 

Sighing, the man picked up the case, unaware of the figure creeping behind him from the corridor. Before he could react, a plastic bag was violently thrown over his face, forcing him backwards, struggling and flailing.

Oblivious of the brawl happening upstairs, Hiccup and Aster were still sitting in the living room, watching Sandy as the short man talked animatedly with his hands, despite his two interlocutors not understanding a word of it. Sanderson "Sandy" Mansnoozie was a surprisingly cheerful man—although slightly narcoleptic, if his inappropriate dozing off was anything to judge by—and exact polar opposite of his brother. But his reclusiveness sometimes caused him to forget that very few were the people that could actually decrypt his words.

« I—err… » The Pie Maker stuttered when Sandy looked up at him in expectancy of an answer. « It’s taking a while, I should go upstairs to see if Mr. Black needs any help finding the briefcase. » 

Aster gave the brunet a silent kick, resenting his colleague for leaving in the middle of a conversation he could take no part in. Sending him an apologetic look, Hiccup slipped away from the room and climbed up the stairs.

« Erm, is everything all right? » He asked when he reached the landing of the stairs. He leaned around the corner, trying to catch a glimpse of Jack’s uncle, but only found the stainless steel briefcase on a table in the hall.

The Pie Maker was about to turn around and call for the tall, dark-haired man again, when all of a sudden he felt a presence behind him, and a bag was thrown over his face. Hiccup gasped, stumbling back and gasping for air as the bag shrink-wrapped to his face. Panic was taking over, and the brunet thought about how stupid it was that no one would be there to touch him back to life, but he kept struggling as the intruder’s grip tightened on him. 

When his mind started to cloud with oxygen deprivation, Hiccup heard a loud _slam_ and he was dropped to the floor. Scrambling back and pulling the plastic bag off his face, the brunet spun around to see Jack, standing with the briefcase in his hands and a ferocious look on his face. The other man was in the corner of the hall, holding his forehead, but quickly recovered and leaped on the white-haired boy. 

Jack struggled to get the man off him, getting a grip the mask obstructing his attacker’s face, and slammed the briefcase in his head again. The man was about Hiccup’s height, with ginger hair slicked backwards and three large blue tattoos resembling scars over his eye. The smile on his face as he stumbled back was that of a deranged man.

Unfortunately, he man managed to block the next hit, and snapped the case out of boy’s hands. He stepped forwards, about to strike again, when his eyes fell on Jack. 

A tense beat, then… 

« Didn’t I kill you already? » 

Hiccup was stunned frozen. He couldn’t take the man down himself, as he was dangerously close to the boy who’d die with a simple touch from him, but he couldn’t abandon Jack either. The Pie Maker was about to call for Aster when a loud gunshot resonated in the house. 

Hiccup and Jack both jumped back as the intruder was blasted through the window behind him. Their heads snapped towards the other room, where Pitch was standing with a shotgun in his hands, seemingly out of breath. The younger boys stood gaping at the other man down the end of the hall. A man who was staring at Hiccup, but more importantly Jack as well. 

The jig appeared to be up. Uncle Pitch was looking directly at his nephew. Nephew who wasn’t supposed to be alive. 

And had he possessed two good eyes, he would’ve seen him.

When Jack realized that he was standing in his uncle’s blind-spot, hidden by the dark eye-patch over his missing eye, a grin crept on his lips, and he carefully walked out of view, smiling widely at Hiccup who couldn’t repress a breathy laugh as the white-haired boy climbed back down a window, unseen. 

As he looked out the window to see the white-haired boy kick the dead killer sprawled out on the floor, Hiccup felt his heart inflate in a rush of warmth and affection. The boy he had rescued from death had returned the favor. 

Behind him, Pitch had picked up the stainless steel briefcase, and popped the lid open. Hiccup gapped when he saw that he case not only was empty of any monkeys, but they had also been replaced with two jars of honey. 

The honey of a boy who had given a little sweetness to the ones he had left behind. 

** xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxox  **

Later that evening, when the police report had been filled and the news reporters had been sent away, Hiccup found himself sitting in Pitch and Sandy’s living room again. Aster had left a while back, and now the brunet was left alone with the two brothers.

Technically being the one who had stopped the killer, the 100,000 dollars reward went to the ex-magicians—much to Aster’s disappointment. Blood shooting with adrenaline and a newfound feeling of freedom, the brothers decided that maybe this was a good time to retreat from their retreat. 

Now that things had settled down, Hiccup cleared his throat, and pulled himself up from the couch. 

« It’s been a very stressful night. » He said, smiling sheepishly towards the two men. « I should probably get going. »

Pitch nodded softly, a drink in his hand as he leaned back in the couch, eyes gazing out the window. Sandy showed a little more enthusiasm and stood up to show their guest the way to the door. Just as he was about to leave, Hiccup tried to remember the few signs he had learnt from Jack as a child, and clumsily gestured his message. 

« Thank you for having me. »

The blond man beamed at him, nodding happily and signing what the brunet assumed meant "You’re welcome". 

Before he could take a step out the door, Sandy grabbed the boy’s sleeve and lifted a finger in a plea for him to wait. He quickly scurried out the entry hall, and came back a moment later with a jar of golden honey in his hands. He handed it to Hiccup, and mouthed a word the Pie Maker would recognize amongst any other. 

« Jack. » 

The brunet smiled gently, holding the jar to his chest, and left. Outside, the sun was starting to rise, and the sky was illuminated in hues of red and orange. With Aster gone, Hiccup was left with no other choice but to walk to the station. Halfway there, he spotted a figure sitting on a bench by the roadside. 

« Looks like karma struck again, tonight. » Jack said, wrapped in a coat to shield himself from the chilly winds of dawn. 

« I’m not sure you could call your uncle "Karma". » Hiccup replied with a smile, taking a seat next to the white-haired boy. He didn’t bother to protest their exposition to prying eyes as it was too early for anyone to see then anyway. « It kind of sounds like a stripper name. »

Jack chuckled, but his eyes were lost in the distance.  « Were you only trying to be kind? With me, being here. » He asked. « Were you simply trying to do something good? Just to help me? » 

The brunet pondered on the question for a second, and shook his head slowly. « I was being selfish. » He said. « I’d love to tell myself I was being unselfish, but I know deep down I was being unselfish for selfish reasons. » 

« Did you want a corpse boyfriend? » 

At the mention of that last word, Hiccup tried to keep the blush from reaching his cheeks.

« No. » He smiled. « I guess I just thought the world would be a better place if you were in it. » 

Strangely, this was the most romantic thing Jack had ever been told. And he realized that Hiccup was the most romantic person he had ever met. While other men bought flowers and jewellery to their significant other, the Pie Maker had brought his childhood love back to life, and offered him the possibility of a new one.  Smiling fondly, the white-haired boy pulled the two plaster monkeys from out of his coat.

« You had them? » Hiccup asked, raising his eyebrows. 

Jack nodded « Took them from my room. And I’m keeping one, since they literally cost me my life. » He had a chuckled, then held the second monkey to the brunet next to him. « And seeing as I wouldn’t be alive if it weren’t for you… » 

The Pie Maker smiled, fingers closing carefully on the monkey.

« Thanks for bringing me back to life. » Jack whispered. 

Those words hung in the air, as the boy boys’ eyes met in palpable attraction. It was a strange feeling of fascination and love swirling between them, and although Jack wouldn’t really tell which was which, Hiccup’s affection was clearer. 

« Thanks for returning the favor. » 

Looking down at his hands, Jack took his plaster monkey and, locking eyes with Hiccup again, pressed his face against the one in the brunet’s hand. Smiling, Hiccup tilted his monkey’s head to return the kiss that substituted the one the two boys could never share. 

They stayed that way for a moment, not one daring to end that electric entrancement they were under. But soon enough, the cold bite of early morning numbed their fingers, and the weight of the statues grew.

« These are kind of heavy. » Hiccup commented. 

A sudden spark of realization crossed their eyes, and— _slam_ —the two boys smashed their monkey against the other’s. The plaster shattered, revealing solid gold underneath.

Staring at the unexpected treasure in their hands, Jack and Hiccup understood that the sentimental value of these monkeys wasn’t just sentimental after all, and they broke down in a fit of laughter. 

When they finally settled down, Hiccup felt the insuppressible urge to hold Jack close to him. Instead, he reached around his back and held his own hand, pretending his was holding Jack’s.

And at that very moment, Jack was pretending to be holding his. 


End file.
